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Sexy Sunday Snippet: Shakedown

12 Aug

by Elizabeth SaFleur

For three years Trick Masters was consumed with revenge. Then she walks back into the door demanding an apology, money and restitution for what she suffered? How rich. She’ll have to earn her way back into his good graces starting with spilling the truth—which turns out neither of them has or ever did.

Read chapter one of the latest novella, Shakedown, which will debut the Shakedown series (debut 2019).

~~~~~

CHAPTER ONE

“Blend in more? Just how does a cocktail waitress do that?” For ten minutes Rachel had stood in her manager’s office, feet aching and her tables unmanned, listening to this crap. She crossed her arms, an unwise, defiant move, but really, this “chat” was ridiculous. “Are you accusing me of something specific, Mr. Jones?”

“The other waitresses have implied you banter with the customers a little too vehemently. There’s flirting, and then there’s . . . well, they’ve complained that you lure—”

“Lure?” She choked back a laugh. She made better tips than the other girls because she was personable. A little harmless flirting never killed anyone, and she was well aware of the game she played. “People like my service. I thought you’d be pleased. In fact, I’d like more shifts. As you said, I’m popular. You’d make more money with me.”

“And, lose my other help.” He stood signaling the meeting was over. “Thanks, Rachel. I know this is uncomfortable. The men at Talman’s are used to getting what they want, but let’s make sure they know you’re not on the menu, too.” He winked.

Un-fricking-believable.

As she fought her way through business suits and raucous laughter to the waitress station at the bar, she attempted to shake off the insinuations her manager had lobbed at her. She needed this job, and she would not succumb to the suggestion she practically prostituted herself for tips. She wasn’t on anyone’s “menu.” So what if a few patrons had asked her out? Big effing deal. She’d turned them all down.

As she waited for Gabe to finish her cocktail order, she glanced down at her phone to see if Jay had returned her call. He hadn’t. Shocker. She wanted to float an idea by her stepbrother, launching a for-hire bartending business they could work together to get them both out of their rut. Jay would never get very far ahead by working on an oil rig, and she’d never finish her bachelor’s degree by waitressing. They both needed something new.

“Order up, Rachel,” Gabe said with a smile and nodded at the drinks he’d prepared. “You outdid yourself with this suggestion.”

“Thanks. They look great.” She adjusted a sprig of lavender on one of the martinis du jour she’d “invented” with Gabe’s help. The same four women, members of the Red Hat Club, came in every Friday with the same request: “Surprise us with the cocktail of the day.” So she did, and her imagination earned her a guaranteed thirty percent tip.

“Interesting, indeed.” A male voice sounded behind her.

Her heart rocketed up her throat, and her knees buckled. She set the tray down to the bar just in time. She knew that voice. It was rougher, deeper than she recalled, but there was no mistaking who that rumble belonged to. She slowly turned and couldn’t believe her eyes. Trick Masters. Jesus, he looked good, but then Trick always had.

“Rachel Grant. As I live and breathe.”

The heartless, deceitful thief peered down at her with those same blue-gray eyes she’d thought so kind—but weren’t. He leered at her with that same charming smile—but which hid a thousand lies.

The floor underneath her threatened to give way, and she stepped backward. He reached around and grasped the side of her tray to prevent the three lavender martinis from crashing to the floor. His suit coat brushed her arm, and just as if a lit match touched a puddle of gasoline, a ball of fire ignited in her belly and all the anger she thought she’d released years ago consumed her. Her therapist’s words flooded her brain. Visualize a stop sign whenever your mind starts to race. Stop the negative feelings, thoughts, and pictures.

“Rachel, you alright?” Gabe asked.

No, she wasn’t alright. At the sound of her name said with kindness, her anger backslid to grief. It started with a tickle inside her nose, then her breath burning hot in her throat, then the prick in her eyes, a cascade of emotion threatening to let loose.

Do not cry. Stop sign. Do not cry. Stop sign.

“Can I get you something else, sir?”

Gabe’s voice likely saved her from doing the unthinkable: shedding another useless, wasted tear over Trick Masters. She lifted her tray. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her come undone.

“Another club soda.” Trick leaned his elbow on the bar and stared at her. “Gabe, no offense to you, but Rachel’s got some interesting mixology ideas. You should put her behind the bar. She’s good at dishing out fantasies.”

His words snapped a lid on her simmering emotion and her anger returned.

“Rachel, I need to talk to you,” Trick said. A fire brewed behind those blue-gray eyes.

“No.”

The haughty bastard’s mouth twitched up at her tone. She’d meant the simple word to land hard—like the punch she never got to deliver on his smug, model-perfect face.

She balanced the tray on her palm and turned away. Her feet finally escaped the invisible concrete that had kept her in place for far too long. Two men parted for her to scoot by, one of them skimming her with his gaze. She hoped Trick saw the man’s admiration.

Shit. Claire, another waitress, stood in front of her table of The Three Suits who had “big tippers” written all over them from their cufflinks to their Berluti handmade shoes.

Rachel quickly hustled over. “Gentleman, I’m so sorry I’ve neglected you. Let me deliver these and I’ll pop back over.”

“No need. I’ve got it, Rachel,” Claire said.

The three men were oblivious, of course, and had returned to their talks of mergers and return on investment.

“What are you doing?” she whispered to Claire.

“Nothing more than you do every night.”

“I told you, those guys last night asked for me, so they got seated in my section. Get over it.” Fury had returned in full force, which was precisely the emotion she should be feeling right now given she’d just encountered Trick Masters. Her therapist would disagree, but whatever.

After delivering her martinis and ensuring her tip from The Three Suits wasn’t in jeopardy, she hustled back to the bar praying Trick’s presence was an illusion or a mental delusion. He couldn’t have been here. The betrayer couldn’t be here in Baltimore.

Stop sign. Stop sign. Stop sign.

Gabe leaned toward her so she could hear him over the symphony of happy hour chatter and laughter. “You know that guy?” He cocked his head toward the exit. She caught Trick’s broad back as he slipped through the revolving doors. “He told Mr. Jones you should join me behind the bar,” Gabe said and then straightened.

“Rachel.” Mr. Jones’s voice behind her made her jump.

“I’d be no good behind the bar,” she said quickly, turning to face her manager. Bartending tips sucked.

“I have a better idea,” Mr. Jones said. “See those two guys over there? They asked for you. I’m putting you on hostess duties. As you said, you’re popular.”

“But—”

“See me when your shift ends. We’ll talk details.”

She dropped her empty tray on the bar. Tears? No way. The wrath she’d suppressed for three years? Bring it on.

“I’m taking a break, Gabe,” she said. Breaks weren’t allowed during peak hours, yet fate presented a gift. She could finally confront the man who had derailed her life. From college student to waitress. What a cliché. She’d spent the last three years scraping dollars and change off dirty tablecloths because of that two-faced bastard.

She pushed her way through a gaggle of women holding martinis and then the revolving door. With any luck he’d still be in the parking lot. She found him leaning against a black sedan parked across the street, casually scrolling through the latest iPhone like he hadn’t care in the world. A hot ball of anger rolled over her so hard, her mental stop sign melted into a puddle. She jogged across the road to him, and immediately a woody scent of cologne wafted between them. The effing nerve of the man, the unbelievable gall to smell good, to look good, to . . .

“Rachel.” He straightened with that same smirk he’d delivered fifteen minutes ago.

He grasped her wrist in mid-air before she could land a satisfying crack on his cheek.

“What the hell?” he barked.

“How dare you be here!” she screamed. So much for her two years and eight months of therapy. Stop sign, meet Trick Masters, the man who ruined my life.

 

Join Elizabeth’s Sexy, Saucy, Sometimes Naughty list to get a notice when this novella releases. (Psst. It’s September 4!) JOIN HERE.

~~~~~

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary romance that dares to “go there.” Expect alpha males (and females), seductive encounters, and love. Learn more about her steamy and sexy stories by following her on Amazon and Bookbub.

 

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Winning Casey by January Bain

10 Jun

Happy Sexy Snippet Sunday! This week we have a hot bit from Book One of January’s Brass Ring Sorority series,

winningcasey_9781786862143_800_2

Blurb:

Headstrong archeologist Casey spends her life exploring the world for hidden treasure and ancient artifacts. A free spirit, her dedication to her calling means she’s often in conflict with the more narrow-minded higher-ups at the university where she’s employed as an associate professor. Timetables, rules, protocols—they all go out of the window when Casey’s on the hunt.

The inscrutable Professor Truman Harrison falls for Casey at first sight, literally, tumbling into a pit at her feet on first meeting. Now, if he as Casey’s new, detested department head can just talk her into helping him search for the legendary treasure buried in the Money Pit of Oak Island, Nova Scotia, maybe he can also get her to fall into his bed. But first he needs to prove to her he’s not just another tunnel-visioned box-ticking management ‘suit’.

But the romance of this scorching-hot couple proves to have all the twists, turns, false starts and trick corners of a multicursal labyrinth. Luckily, both Casey and Truman have no small skill and a little bit of practice in navigating those…

Excerpt:

“Do you have a boyfriend, Casey? I was wondering, as I can’t imagine his wanting you to be wandering all over the countryside without his protection. I know I’d have some objections if it were my woman going off with a strange man looking for ancient treasure.”

“What! I am quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much!” And just when he wasn’t looking quite so annoying he came out with that old line.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

“No,” she admitted, the alcohol freeing her tongue. “My track record on that score is dismal. Never seems to go past one or two dates. Most guys just don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” Truman sat so close heat radiated from his warm flesh. She shivered.

“The last guy I went out with liked ketchup on his burned steak for heaven’s sake! Who does that to a forty-dollar steak?” The alcohol loosened her tongue further. “And then there was the guy, an accountant, talked about his retirement plans on the first date,” she said with a snort. “And his married brother with their two perfect children. Showed me photos on his facebook page and everything. He just wanted a wife and one point seven children.” She took another sip of the liquor to stop herself from going any further. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear about my dating woes.”

“No, it’s quite fascinating, really.”

“My bullshit meter says differently,” she said with a snort.

“I understand about commitment issues.”

“Why, have you been burned professor?” Hardly the question one should ask their boss, but he’d started it.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He had someone specific in mind, obviously.

“Care to talk about it?”

“No, done enough of that already,” he said, a twinge of bitterness exposed.

“Therapy is overrated,” she said. “My personal philosophy is ‘suck it up buttercup’ and get on with things.”

It was his turn to snort. “Yeah, well maybe next time.” He got to his feet. “I’d better make us some coffee, darlin’. I’m starting to feel a little too good.” He froze. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“I hear something large moving in the bush directly across from us. I’ll bet that Byrne is up to something,” he said grimly as he got to his feet. “You stay here. I’ll check.”

“Like hell!” she said scrambling off the chair. She had more training than him on defensive moves, she’d bet her bottom dollar on it.

He gave her a quick look.

“I’ll head to the right. You take the left,” she whispered before he could speak. As quietly and fast as possible she maneuvered around rocks and debris taking a wide berth into the stand of trees, all senses on high alert. Truman headed in the opposite direction, moving like a shadow. Not bad. For a suit.

Bright red eyes glowed fiery in the darkness. She froze, a twig crackled under her shoe making her wince. Every sense on high alert. The eyes were approximately a meter above the ground, the right height for a very large dog or giant wolf.

The head moved slowly as it caught her scent. The piercing eyes bore into hers. Fuck. What was it?

She trained to ward off humans—but this–this was something else entirely. Her breath quickened. Raspy. Too fast. She longed for full body padding. A gun. Bear spray. Any weapon.

Calm down.

She racked her brain. It could only be one thing. The Devil Dog.

Legendary guardian of buried treasure. Byrne had to be playing at creating one to frighten them off. It wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real. Someone in a costume most likely. She took a step closer. Her eyes remained riveted on the spot. Prayed she was right. Because if she was wrong…

The dark shape moved closer. She stood her ground. Swallowed. Hard. Was it going to attack? Her alcohol befuddled mind froze. Time froze.

Then in a flash it turned and began moving toward the shore, away from them. She heard Truman following as she rushed forward, not worrying about being heard now that whatever it was knew they were onto it.

They reached the beach. Casey whirled around.

Gone. Nowhere to be seen.

“What the fuck!” she exclaimed.

“My sediments exactly,” Truman said coming up to her. With only a sliver of moon the beach navigating the beach was difficult, filled with lurking potholes and large objects. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and shone it on the ground, looking for prints in the sand. Nothing conclusive.

“Hologram?” she asked, musing aloud. Let out a deep breath. “Laser eyes? Little person in a costume?” Now safe, she could let out the stress.

He gave a bark of laughter at the last one. “Not sure, it moved silently. I wouldn’t put it past him though to come up with some crazy way of doing it. He wants us gone. He’s made that abundantly clear.”

~~~~~

Get your copy of Winning Casey direct from the publisher or Amazon. Book Two, Chasing Lacey, is being released June 19th.

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If you are looking for January Bain, you can find her hard at work every morning without fail in her office with two furry babies trying to prove who does a better job of guarding the doorway. And, of course, she’s married to the most romantic man! Who once famously remarked to her inquiry about buying fresh flowers for their home every week, “Give me one good reason why not?” Leaving her speechless and knocking her head against the proverbial wall for being so darn foolish. She loves flowers.

If you wish to connect in the virtual world she is easily found on Facebook, twitter and writes a weekly blog about her journey on Blogger. Oh, and she loves to talk books…

 

 

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Her Sir by Megan Slayer

13 May

It’s Sunday and that means we’re here with a sexy Sunday snippet. This week we have a yummy bit from Megan Slayer’s Her Sir.
HH

Blurb:

There’s only one man for Andi—her Sir.

Andi McCarron knew the moment she met Sir’s gaze, he’d change her life forever. Despite other Doms wanting her as their sub, she only submits to him because he knows how to make her skin tingle. The pain delivered from his crop makes her spirit sing. She needs Sir but she wants more—except he’s not interested in taking the relationship outside of the club. What’s a girl to do when the man of her dreams, the one wielding the crop, won’t leave the club?

Dean Meyer craves his sweet sub, Andi. She fills his dreams and fantasies, but she wants a relationship. He’s not sure she can handle both his demons and secrets. Still, he can’t deny the attraction to her. When fate throws them together, he has to make a choice—give his sub what she needs or let her go for good.

Excerpt:

“You control everything,” she blurted. Her cheeks reddened, and she bowed her head.

“Sorry. But you do.”

“Actually, you do. When we play, you’re the one in control. You say stop or slow, and I follow. I push you, but you tell me when you’re done. I’ll encourage you to stretch your boundaries, but only because I want to make you fly.” He pushed the cooling coffee to the side. “If you say no, then I respect your decision.”

“You expect me to kneel.” She flattened her palms on the table. “Like that last time.”

“I wanted to show off my beautiful woman. If you’d have said no before we left the private area, I would’ve stayed out of the main room.” He leveled his gaze at her. “I expect a partner. You were my best partner.” He hadn’t taught her very well if she thought she was second rate. When they played again—and they would be—he’d show her what he meant.

“You have one. A partner. I saw the demonstration,” she said. “You replaced me.”

“Slow down.” He hadn’t known she was at the club when he’d done the demonstration or he would’ve plucked her from the audience. “Which demo?”

“There’s more than one?”

“I don’t have a permanent sub, so I’m expected to do demonstrations for visitors, for the videos … for people who want to play the voyeur. That’s part of my job at the club.” Not his favorite part and he couldn’t wait to pass the torch to someone else, but he’d tell her that later. She managed to aggravate him like no other. He wanted to stretch her ass across his lap and spank the sass out of her. Then he wanted to kiss her until she collapsed. He wasn’t one to settle down, but she made him think twice. In her own way, she’d broken him.

“I thought we had something.” She turned her cup around. “Now I understand I was just another client.”

“I never said that. Never thought it,” he said. She’d been special from the start. He loved the way she felt in his arms, the way she moaned during a scene, the flicker in her eyes just before she came…

“Then why replace me? Why not tell me how you felt?” she asked. “Or have you come to this realization now that we’re not at the club?”

“First, I didn’t replace you. I don’t have any one sub I play with. The girls in the video are one and done. No sex, just demonstration and go. I haven’t found anyone who can fill your place. I’ve had a couple offers, but they aren’t you.” They shouldn’t be having this conversation in public, but she needed reassurance. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

©2018 Megan Slayer, All Rights Reserved

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Her Sir is out now. Get your copy from Evernight Publishing,  Amazon, or hit the Universal link for other e-oulets.

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Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. Find out more about Megan (and Wendi) and check out her Blog or Facebook Fan Page.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Make Me Blush by Isabelle Drake

6 May

Happy hot Sunday! This week we have a bit from one of the three stories tucked inside Make Me Blush by Isabelle Drake, a beach read anthology just in time for the summer.

Make Me Blush eBook

Blurb:

Three men: risking everything for the women they love…
The result: three stories of wild, over-the-top sexy satisfaction and three happily-ever-afters.

Pink Lace
Edward knows his wife wants more than his usual brand of gentle lovemaking, so he signs a contract with Winona, a woman who creates custom sexual experiences. He expects a simple lesson in seduction, something to spark Kelly’s interest, but as he settles in front of newly installed video monitors he realizes he’s been neglecting his wife’s beautiful wild side.

Pink Bow
In a luxurious house on the beach, where couples gather to privately enjoy a taste of sexual freedom, Abby’s about to experience the hottest gift a husband can give.

Wicked Pink
If Matthew knew how intensely Tara, his gorgeous raven-haired wife, loves him, he might not deliver her into the arms of his best friend, Dan. Dan thought he’d left behind his life filled with whips and exotic tools. But when given a chance to put his talents to use, he realizes that knowing how to unleash a woman’s wicked side has advantages.

Excerpt from Pink Bow:

Troy and I got married six months ago, so it won’t surprise you to know we have a lot of sex. But there’s one night each week that’s extra-special—every Thursday we play Scrabble first.

I know when I say it like that it sounds really boring, but trust me—it isn’t. Troy’s dick is always hard throughout the entire game and he really knows how to make me beg for what I actually want. I’ll be sitting across the board from him, watching his long fingers put the tiles in place, wondering how he’s going to make me come later. By the time the game is over, I’m on fire with anticipation.

But one Thursday night, about three months ago, instead of pulling the Scrabble board out from under the bed, he led me to the closet and told me to put on my shortest skirt and highest heels and left the room. I made a joke out it and put on a pair of rhinestone stripper heels a friend had given me to wear for my bachelorette party. Then I slipped into a tiny slip-on skirt I bought on clearance but never wore. No top. No panties.

He didn’t laugh when I marched out into our small living room, jiggled my boobs and then spun around to show him my bare ass. He looked me up and down from where he was sitting on the couch and said, totally straight-faced, “The no-panties idea is perfect, but you better go ahead and put a shirt on or I’m going to fuck you, right here, right now. Then you’d never get to see what I have planned for you.” Then he looked away and added, “So hurry up and get ready so we can go.”

“Where’re we going?”

He didn’t look at me. He just gestured to the hall that led to our bedroom.

“Should I wear t-shirt? Or a nice blouse?” I asked, stepping backward toward our bedroom.

He got up and folded his arms across his chest. “Wear the sluttiest top you can come up with.”

That got my attention. Not him using the word “sluttiest”. I’m used to that because he calls me “slut” all the time. And for good reason—I can’t get enough. However and whenever he wants to fuck me, I’m ready. Sometimes I think I’ll never, ever get enough sex. Before Troy and I got married, I was pretty wild. But I was doing a good job of keeping my unusually intense sex drive a secret from my husband. At least I thought I was. It was on that Thursday night that I learned he’d known the truth about me for a while.

~~~~

Make Me Blush is out now. Get your Kindle ebook or paperback today from Amazon.

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Isabelle Drake ignores the advice that it’s best to stick to one genre. Her next book, out May 3, Servant of the Undead, is erotic horror .

Find Isabelle on Facebook or Amazon and follow her snapchat @isadrake for the most personal snaps.

Sexy Sunday Snippet with Bonus Interview from Devon McCormack

25 Mar

Happy Sunday Lady Smutters. This week we’re here to please you with Kris Michaels’ guest post–an interview with Devon McCormack and a sexy snippet from his book, Jesse, from his BFF: Best Friend’s Father Series.

KRIS MICHAELS:  Readers, it is my pleasure to introduce Devon McCormack! He is one of the authors I stalk. His books are H.O.T., and the stories carry that delicious hotness through a myriad of situations that hook you until the very last page. If you haven’t read his work, do yourself a favor and hop onto Amazon and pick up one of his stories. You will not regret it! Enough fangirling! To the interview!

Hi, Devon! Thank you for agreeing to be interviewed for Lady Smut’s blog. I have some questions listed. As you know, or I assume you know, I’m a huge fan of your work.

DEVON MCCORMACK: Thank you so much! I’m thrilled to be on the blog today!

KRIS MICHAELS: Please, tell us a little something about you.

DEVON MCCORMACK: Oh, Jesus, where to begin? I’m thirty in Grindr years, but that’s all I’m saying there. I live in Atlanta, Georgia with my partner, who I affectionately dub as BF, and my little pooch, Brody. I’m an author, but the only thing my partner thinks I’m really writing is FB posts and comments all day long. LOL

KRIS MICHAELS: When was it that the thought struck you, ‘You know, I want to be a writer?’

DEVON MCCORMACK: I couldn’t tell you exactly when. I was writing as a kid, and I remember writing this really short story…I was probably like eight or nine…and I was like, “I need to get this published.” Of course, easier said than done. So I’ve been getting rejection slips from agents and publishers since way back then. And obviously, none of that was enough to discourage me.

KRIS MICHAELS: Do you write full time? What is your work schedule like when you’re writing?

DEVON MCCORMACK: I am on my computer full-time, but I wish I could say that I was writing that much. 😉

As for my schedule, I typically wake up around 4-5AM, depending on how lazy I’m feeling. I might get up at like 5:30AM if I’m feeling sluggish. I’ll write from then to, say, 10AM. Then I have a long break until I hit the gym around 2PM. After that, I’ll write on until maybe 6 or 7PM. I take breaks, but I have a timer that I use to clock a certain number of hours. This is for my own solo work. If I have a collab going on at the same time with Riley Hart, then I have to do that during my day at some point as well.

KRIS MICHAELS: How long does it take you to write a book?

DEVON MCCORMACK: However long it takes. It varies, but I word-vomit the first draft and then go back and clean up the mess through extensive revisions, so not terribly long. I won’t let anything go beyond three months, though. If a book starts getting that difficult, it just needs to be tossed in the trash. Of course, if I felt like I was being productive and the project was going well but just taking a bit longer, I would pursue it. However, for me, a book usually doesn’t stretch out that long. I get very focused and just want to get to the end of the project as quickly as I can.

KRIS MICHAELS: When did you write your first book? What book was it? What did you learn writing it?

DEVON MCCORMACK: This is always an interesting question. I can never tell if people mean my first book ever or my first published book. If we’re going with that first novel, I was fifteen years old. It was this middle grade fantasy about a kid who enters this alternate world where he goes on all sorts of magical adventures, which was a ton of fun to write. I think the most important thing it taught me was that I could write a book from start to finish. It showed me that it just required a certain amount of discipline. Obviously I learned a lot of other things about creating characters, conveying information to a reader, and writing dialogue, but just knowing that I could get the damn thing done was a good first step.

After that, I have a drawer full of books that will never see the light of day. But my first published book I wrote back in 2012-2013. It was called Clipped, and it was just this crazy paranormal adventure where I did pretty much whatever I wanted. That taught me that sometimes I just need to say, “Fuck it,” and do my own thing, which is what I typically do when I’m writing. I can stress about people hating that stuff later on.

KRIS MICHAELS: What drew you to writing romance?

DEVON MCCORMACK: I’d always been a big romance reader, so I think it came very naturally. I worked at. Borders bookstore in college, and I would sneak Ellora’s Cave titles into the breakroom because those were just so delicious. They made me feel so naughty and deviant…and at the time, those covers were fucking wild.

But when I started writing, I was actually working on more erotic titles…with some young adult projects as well…go figure. I think it was like 2015 when I started to really get into romance. Mostly, that was because I had some personal things going on that made me want some HEAs in my life. It was such a wonderful experience, and I fell in love with how much I could delve into my characters and explore their relationships. People interest me, and romance is the perfect platform for analyzing the human condition…our insecurities, fears, weaknesses, values, strengths, and proclivities. Plus, I love sex in books, and I can write as much as I want in romance. 😉

KRIS MICHAELS: Where do you get your ideas for your books?

DEVON MCCORMACK: Usually, I’ll be thinking on some random thing and I’ll be like, “Ooh, that interests me!” Today, even while writing this, I got an idea for something that I can’t start on right at this moment, but just sort of reflecting on a situation in my life, this idea for these two guys came to me and I thought, “I can do something with this!”

KRIS MICHAELS: What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books?

DEVON MCCORMACK: The threads that run through most, if not all, of them. They show what I’m interested in exploring and learning more about. For instance, mental illness is something I really like to write about. It’s something I personally enjoy researching, so it makes sense that it comes up often, but I don’t think I would have thought much about it if I hadn’t written enough books to be able to look back and notice that thread running through a lot of them.

And then there are little things. I’ll notice them in two or three books, and I’ll think, “Weird that there are these similarities between these projects. I wonder what that says about me?”

KRIS MICHAELS: What do you think makes a good story?

DEVON MCCORMACK: Something that keeps me, as a reader, engaged. I don’t know, though. A lot of that is about tastes. A story that engages me is awful to another reader, and a book someone else adores will be meh to me. I just want something that keeps me turning the pages.

KRIS MICHAELS: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

DEVON MCCORMACK: And when is this non-writing time happening? LOL I’m probably hitting the gym or going for a jog, because gotta get that shit in! (And I believe that about other areas of my life, too, but let’s not be dirty 😉 ). I don’t know…I like going out with friends or just binge-watching new music videos on Youtube. Nothing very exciting.

KRIS MICHAELS: How many books have you written?

DEVON MCCORMACK: Just enough. 😉

KRIS MICHAELS: In your writing career, what has been your biggest accomplishment?

DEVON MCCORMACK: I self-published my first novel, Clipped, and I would say taking that risk…that willingness to just go for it, is probably the moment I’m most proud of. I was obsessed with traditional publishing back then. I submitted every book to agents and publishers…to no avail. And to be willing to put myself out there, without the sanction of someone else saying what I’d created was good, that took a lot of pushing past mental demons. It wasn’t a particularly easy road after that, but I pushed on and I just kept facing the obstacles as they presented themselves, and I’m thrilled that I did.

KRIS MICHAELS: Have you ever had a moment where you sat back and looked at your accomplishments and felt content with where you are and what you are doing? If so, what was that moment?

DEVON MCCORMACK: I’m not a particularly content person, and I always feel like I’m moving on to the next thing before I have a chance to enjoy the thing that came before it. I’ve certainly had moments where I appreciated what was happening, but content…IDK…that feels like something I’ve never really felt about anything in my life. Occasionally, I might have three minutes where I’m in the middle of a particularly juicy sex scene, and I’ll stop and have this big smile on my face and think, “Damn, I’m lucky.” But that’s about it. Hahahaha.

~~~~~

Book blurb:

A beach vacay with my best bud since college seems like the perfect opportunity to relax, catch some rays, and enjoy a couple of nights on the town. When I find a girl who’s eager to mess around with me, I figure I’ve got it made.

Then I meet the intense, hot-as-hell, tattooed Eric Westright, who wrecks my world…in the best possible way.

He awakens something within me-something that’s always been here, but that’s never pulled so powerfully…not until I looked into those solemn blue eyes and felt the red-hot spark of his touch.

There’s something about this chemistry that’s so intoxicating, and the more I get to know him, the harder it becomes for me to resist these impulses that overtake me-that leave me wanting him to show me what it feels like to have a man inside me.

I know he’s fighting too. It’s so wrong, but every kiss, every caress, every stroke feels so right. We shouldn’t act on these urges, but we can’t help ourselves.

First he claims my body, then he claims my heart.

And before I know it, I’m in too deep with my best friend’s father…

*BFF is a steamy romance, but one of the main characters has a painful past that may act as a trigger for some people. Readers are invited to check out the complete trigger warning on the copyright page, which can be viewed by clicking on the “Look Inside” preview or by downloading the sample. These triggers contain spoilers for the novel.

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Book excerpt:

I glance myself over in the floor-length mirror, inspecting my profile to see how I look in the swimming trunks I’m wearing. I face forward, flexing my six-pack, appreciating the effort I made to lose a couple of pounds before our Puerto Vallarta vacation. It’s nice seeing the definition in my torso as well as some good bulk in my chest and biceps.

I run my hand through my dark-brown hair and then I hear, “Ooh, look who’s feeling conceited in that suit.”

Ty steps out of the changing room in a polka-dotted Speedo, surely noticing that I’m basically checking myself out in the mirror, something he’s done quite a few times since we got to the swimsuit designer’s boutique. We’ve been trying on different cuts and designs for close to half an hour, helping the designer, Julio, get an idea of the type of suit we want.

It’s kind of weird getting a designer swimsuit with Ty. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have half the clothes hanging in my closet, mainly because I’m not as interested in clothes shopping as he is.

“Whatever,” I say.

Ty comes up behind me and slaps my ass. “Looking good, looking good,” he teases.

I roll my eyes. “It’s kind of girly,” I say, assessing the bright fuchsia suit.

“The girlier you wear, the more masculine you look,” Ty explains. “Trust me, it’s a thing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I say as he inspects his ass in the Speedo he has on. The sunlight entering through the bay window shimmers off Ty’s sandy-blond hair, which matches the bit of scruff he’s grown since we’ve been on vacation. With killer abs he’s never had an issue maintaining with a sit-up here or there, I don’t deny he looks hot in the suit.

“That’s always been a thing,” he insists. “If you wear something that looks very feminine, then the odds are people are going to think you must be super masculine to be trying to pull it off.”

“Or assume I want a dick in my mouth,” I add.

Not that it would be entirely untrue or that I haven’t felt that way about guys in my life, but I don’t need to wear a fucking banner to let the world know I get a little confused about all that from time to time.

“He might have a point there,” Julio says with a smile as he folds his arms. He stands off to the side, watching us try on the suits, seeming to enjoy the show.

Ty shakes his head. “Whatever. Julio, I’m not loving this. What else you got?”

Here we go…

We try on a few more before we each buy one. Then we head back to Ty’s dad’s condo.

It’s a few miles from Julio’s swimsuit boutique, so we take a cab. As we get in, Ty’s phone pings, and he checks it.

“It’s Mandy,” he says, a sparkle in his eyes.

Last night, we ran into some college-age kids who are here for a couple of weeks, same as us. They were a fun group to get hammered with. Ty hit on this girl named Mandy while I chatted up her friend Dana.

“Oh really?” I ask. “And what does Mandy want?”

“She and her friends are having a party tonight at the house they’re renting.”

“I’m game.”

“You’re game?” he asks. “What the fuck do you mean you’re game? You can’t tell me you don’t want to get all up on Dana. I saw the way you were hitting on her.”

“She was nice, but I think you were a little more into Mandy than I was into Dana.”

He rolls his eyes. “Seriously. You need to relax and get some.”

“I’m not looking for that. I just finished things with Whitney, so the last thing I need right now is to be chasing girls around.”

“That’s definitely not the last thing you need.”

I chuckle. “Okay, I get what you mean, but, Ty, I’m enjoying being single.”

“The whole point of being single is that you get to have sex with whoever you want.”

“I don’t want to hook up,” I tell Ty.

“Come on. It’ll be like our Georgia Tech days.”

“Even back then, I wasn’t having sex like you were. I was going on dates. You remember what those are? Like actually getting to know girls? The whole pickup scene isn’t my thing.”

“You are too hot for that.”

“It’s called making a connection. Actually giving a shit about a person.”

“Whatever. Sounds boring to me.” Although, I can tell by the expression on his face that he’s just giving me a hard time. “But promise me you’ll get some action while you’re here. I don’t want to believe you wasted AMEX points and came all the way here from Atlanta just so you can get skin cancer and maybe a bacterial infection from drinking the water.”

I laugh. “Shut the fuck up.”

When we get back to his dad’s condo, as we walk through the front door, I’m blown away by the designer furnishings, decor, and artwork. Every time we step in, I’m reminded suddenly I’m in a rich person’s place.

On the other side of the living area, two sliding glass doors lead onto a balcony overlooking the bay. It’s the sort of place I would never be able to have access to if it wasn’t for Ty and his bougie life because of his family.

Not that I do badly with my job, but that’s not how I grew up—I was bouncing around from foster family to foster family, none of whom had a place even comparable to this. And it’s definitely not like my apartment now, so it’s a stark change from what I’ve always been used to.

“That’s weird,” Ty says. “I thought we hit the lights before we left.”

I’m not sure if he’s right, but as we look around, I hear a sound coming from inside one of the guest bedrooms.

“Eric, that you?” Ty asks.

We approach the bedroom, and I hear the sound of running water, which stops abruptly. A moment passes before someone comes around the corner from the bathroom.

I’ve never met Ty’s dad before. They didn’t even meet until Ty was sixteen, and from what Ty’s told me, their relationship isn’t the best. In fact, I think the only reason his dad lets him hang here is to make up for how he wasn’t there for him when he was a kid.

The guy looks like he’s in his early forties. He has a cut body, decorated with a dark, navy-colored sleeve tat that runs up his arm and across his left pec. The design is elaborate, though I can’t make out what it’s of. Jet-black hair, a stark contrast to Ty’s sandy-blond locks, falls across his forehead as it drips with water, which runs down his face, through a half an inch or so of neatly-groomed scruff that covers his sharp jawline.

He wraps a towel around his waist as he heads toward us, and for a moment—too brief a moment—I get a glimpse of his massive cock.

Holy fuck.

I can’t deny the stiffening erection in my jeans. He’s a hot man. It’s rare that I meet a guy I get the hots for, but he’s definitely one who gets me going, and I feel guilty as fuck that it’s with my best friend’s father.

Get your copy of Jesse now at Amazon.

~~~~~

Devon McCormack spends most of his time hiding in his lair, adventuring in paranormal worlds with his island of misfit characters. A good ole Southern boy, McCormack grew up in the Georgian suburbs with his two younger brothers and an older sister. At a very young age, he spun tales the old fashioned way, lying to anyone and everyone he encountered. He claimed he was an orphan. He claimed to be a king from another planet. He claimed to have supernatural powers. He has since harnessed this penchant for tall tales by crafting whole worlds where he can live out whatever fantasy he chooses.

Devon’s body of work ranges from erotica to young adult, so readers should check the synopses of his books before purchasing so that they know what they’re getting into.

You can find Devon on Facebook and Twitter.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Rewritten by Bronwyn Green

18 Mar

It’s Sunday…and you can depend on Lady Smut to bring your something hot. This week we have a hot bit from Bronwyn Green’s Rewritten, part of the Bound series.

About the Bound series:

What’s hotter than sexy accents, BDSM, and a bit of rope? Not Much.

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Book blurb:

Betrayed and completely exposed, she’d sworn off kink. Hell, she’d sworn off men. But she hadn’t counted on him…

One of the hottest voices in Sci-Fi, Angus Domhnull is renowned not just for his sweeping sagas, but for his stupidly gorgeous looks—and the fact that he’s taken almost five years to finish his latest novel. Now, assistant editor, Eliza Burrows, is stuck minding him, and his brooding nature is pushing every sexually submissive button she has. But even if Angus wasn’t her publisher’s star author, he’d be off-limits—after a painful betrayal, Eliza doesn’t play anymore, and she’s not about to start again with him.

Unable to deliver his long-awaited manuscript, Angus is saddled with a keeper—and her creative input—that he never asked for. Despite the resentment and animosity brewing between them, he finds himself drawn to Eliza. As he learns more about the intriguing woman behind the prickly facade, he falls for her, hard and deep.

When the attraction between them ignites, Eliza lets Angus bring her to one place she swore she’d never go again—her knees. He wants more than just her submission, but her past and the secrets she’s hidden could destroy everything…

Book excerpt:

“I don’t need a minder.”

Eliza Burrows stared at the top of the man’s dark head as she waited for him to look up and acknowledge her presence. He continued to tap away at this laptop keys as if she’d already left the room. When it seemed no further response would be forthcoming, she cleared her throat. “I’m not here as a babysitter, Mr. Domhnull.”

“Didn’t ask for you. Don’t want you,” he muttered, never looking up.

“Your publisher—”

“My publisher is a bunch of scabby bawbag sucking skivers.”

Her lips twitched, but she managed not to smile. Barely. It was nearly impossible not to be charmed by his heavy Scottish accent, not to mention amused by his word choice though. Not that he would have noticed as intent on ignoring her as he was.

“Well, that bunch of dirty testicle sucking idiots—or is it layabouts? Anyway, they hired me to do a job.”

He looked up at that, the intensity in his nearly black eyes almost stealing her breath. Or maybe it was just that he was so much more beautiful than she’d been prepared for. Sure, she’d seen his picture—who at Terra Ink Publishing hadn’t? But photographs had not done this man justice. Thick slashes of black brows sat above eyes so dark brown, it was almost impossible to discern the pupil from the iris. Long lashes framed those bright, dark eyes. Eyes that were currently assessing her. But she refused to let him see any weakness.

Instead, she smiled serenely and went on, “And that job is making sure you attend your panels on time and sober—”

He threw up his hands. “Show up guttered one time, and—”

And,” she continued, “that you finish your book.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, pinning her with that inky gaze. “So, explain to me again how you’re not a minder?”

She refused to look away.

Angus Domhnull was basically the George R. R. Martin of the science fiction world. Well, the super-hot, sci-fi version of George R. R. Martin, anyway. Angus had been working on the final book in his blockbuster series, Dark Nebula Rising, for almost five years. He’d already blown deadline after deadline, and his fans were getting pissed. But not as pissed as his editor and the powers that be at Terra Ink.

So here she was—glorified babysitter—at least, for the duration of this tour. “Technically, my current job title is assistant editor, but I’ll be acting as your author assistant,” she said stiffly.

“Soooooooooo…” He drew out the word as he shoved his hand through his unruly curls.

“So, fine. I’m your minder.” She straightened her spine. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your hair while you’re working, and to make sure you’re where you’re supposed to be when you’re supposed to be there.”

He stared at her for a moment more then, obviously dismissing her, lowered his head and began typing again.

Stifling a sigh, she opened the file folder she’d been holding and laid several sheets of paper and one of her business cards on his desk. He continued working, pointedly ignoring her.

“That’s a copy of your schedule. There will be a car waiting at seven-thirty. If you need anything, my cell number is on the back of the business card.”

Turning on her heel, she walked toward the door of their adjoining rooms.

“Ms….”

She looked back at him as he picked up the business card, clearly searching for her name.

“Burrows?”

“Yes?”

“Close the door on your way out.”

Rewritten is out now and you can get your copy from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and iBooks.

~~~~~

Bronwyn Green is an author, blogger, and compulsive crafter. She lives in Michigan with her husband, two children and four somewhat psychotic cats. When not frantically writing, she can be found binge-watching Netflix while working on her latest craft project. Find and follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Switching Places by Morticia Knight

11 Mar

You are in for a treat! This Sunday we have a bit from Switching Places, Book 8 in Morticia Knight’s Kiss of Leather Series.

Kiss of Leather Series:

Kiss of Leather is the pet project of close friends and Doms, Gavin, Derek and Josh. As business partners, they envision the gay BDSM club to be the premiere destination for both demonstrations and play in not only Los Angeles, but the entire country. Designed to attract the most elite of players, Kiss of Leather is built from the ground up to their exact specifications.

Take a peek behind the gates which guard Kiss of Leather. It’s the club that promises a completely decadent experience to stimulate your senses – and that leads unsuspecting Masters and subs to their Happily Ever Afters.

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Book Blurb:

Tai has hit a wall in life. From all outward appearances, he’s the guy who has everything—looks, personality and money. But the modeling gigs are drying up and he still hasn’t found that special someone to call his own. The part-time work at Kiss of Leather is quickly becoming full-time to prevent the drain on his dream-business savings.

Elliot fell for the stunning Tai from almost the moment he met him. If he wasn’t so self-conscious about the weight he’s recently put on, maybe he could work up the nerve to make a move. However, not only is he a virgin who’s never done a scene before working in a BDSM club, but he’s also sure that Tai has a thing for Master Lucas. There’s no way he could ever compete with the handsome silver fox.

When Master Lucas confesses to Tai that he doesn’t only see him as a hookup and offers him a contract, there are a ton of considerations. They both realize that serious compromises would have to be made for them to have a relationship. But what if they found a third, a sub who could bottom for Tai and also do TPE with Master Lucas? Once the idea takes hold, Tai knows just the perfect boy for them both. Even better? He’s right there at Kiss of Leather, and Tai can’t wait for Elliot to turn them all into a throuple.

Book Excerpt:

Tai wishes Master Lucas wasn’t such an adamant Top, but he’s also crushing on the sweetly submissive Elliot. Could he have it both ways?

Lucas sauntered into the living room, flicking his gaze to the thermostat as he passed by to verify the temperature would remain cool enough, then reached the burgundy micro suede circular sofa that was the centerpiece of his sunken living room. The main theme was white, but the sofa, two round side chairs and the drapes were the color of deep red wine. He dropped onto the couch next to Tai, where he was flipping through his phone.

Lucas cleared his throat. “Do you suppose I could have your full attention?”

Tai widened his eyes, then tossed his phone onto the glass topped burl wood coffee table, the fake fur case keeping the clatter to a minimum. “Oops, sorry. Got distracted while you were in the kitchen.” Tai scooted closer. “But I didn’t get to finish my story yet.”

Tai had been in the middle of an animated tale on their walk back from the restaurant that involved a battle between him and his condo management company.

“I apologize.” Lucas angled his body toward Tai. “I suppose I was distracted right now as well. Tell me the rest.”

“Well, as I was saying, I have to move everything to the other side of the room for this shit, this improvement project, and I haven’t even finished putting the room together the way I wanted it yet!”

Lucas regarded Tai with amusement. “You’ve been at your new place for how long? A few months?”

Tai threw his hands in the air. “I know, right? That’s barely any time to get anything done. Now I have to undo what little progress I’ve made, make a mess and start all over.” He crossed his arms, sticking his bottom lip out. “So annoying.”

“I agree it’s annoying—”

Tai jumped in his lap and wrapped his arms around Lucas’ neck. “See? I knew you’d understand. Let’s fuck. I’ll go first.”

Lucas snorted out a laugh. “And subs accuse me of not being romantic. However, you cut me off before I could finish. It is annoying, but you brought it on yourself.”

Tai eyes widened as his jaw went slack. “Shut your mouth! I did not!”

Lucas had embraced Tai the moment he’d landed on him, so he kept a tight hold even if Tai was in the process of trying to wriggle away.

“Sit still for a moment, boy. Talk to me.” Lucas kept his tone even, but not commanding. He wouldn’t order any sub to share their feelings if they were set against it—that needed to come from them organically. He wasn’t against some strong encouraging, however.

“Why should I? You clearly don’t understand the situation.”

“Then help me to understand why it’s the management company’s fault that you haven’t handled the mess in your condo yet?”

Tai narrowed his eyes as if trying to determine whether Lucas was being sincere or sarcastic. “Well…I didn’t say it was their fault, per se. Just that it was really annoying.”

Lucas rubbed Tai’s back with one hand while still hanging on to him with the other. He didn’t know why the switch with such a big personality brought out such a need in him for more than sex or a scene. “So, what you’re really saying is that you’re irritated with yourself for not taking care of your clutter, but that the management company is an easy target because they’ve already wronged you in other ways.”

Tai struggled against him again, but with much less vigor. “I am not. I merely… They… You see…” He pressed his lips together. “The offer to fuck is off the table, mister. I don’t need more aggravation in my life right now.”

“How about more kissing?”

Before Tai had the chance to protest, Lucas claimed his mouth, pushing his tongue past Tai’s lips. They’d only kissed one other time, early on, and it had been scary enough that Lucas had avoided it ever since then. Tai hadn’t complained, so Lucas always wondered if it had been scary for him too. He rarely kissed men he was playing with, so he surprised himself by the move.

But Tai tasted so good, smelled so enticing. Lucas could breathe him in all day and lose himself in the man who refused to be a sub the way he needed. If only… He would rock Tai’s world. Cherish and keep him, not break his spirit at all if Tai would just give him the chance. But Tai remained adamant that he needed to dominate too. The situation left them at an unfortunate impasse as a pair.

Tai had yielded to him, though, and he took it as a good sign in a bad way. If Tai felt the connection between them the same way he did, then what sort of trouble were they setting themselves up for when they both knew they could never work in the long run?

They both finally broke for air. “Oh, all right. We can fuck.” Tai smiled at him with a glint in his eye. “Just don’t be a big meanie anymore.”

Lucas chuckled and pecked Tai on the nose. “Never.” He cleared his throat, wondering if he was about to set Tai off again. But it might work… “Have you ever thought about D/s, having a full-time Master?”

Tai gave him an exaggerated eyeroll and smirked. “What do you think?”

Lucas popped him on the butt. “Now, now. If you need a spanking, all you have to do is ask for it nicely.”

Tai wrinkled his nose. “Of what use is a nice spanking?”

“True. But you’re avoiding my question.”

Tai batted his eyelashes. It was something that had always annoyed Lucas when subs would use it on him. But for whatever reason, he found it adorable when Tai did it.

“What question was that again?” Tai ground his hardened cock into Lucas’ groin.

Lucas whacked him harder on his ass. “If you don’t want to talk right now, that’s fine. However, I’m not going to be a party to letting you use sex as a distraction from having a reasonable discussion regarding something I’m serious about.”

“Sorry. I just thought you weren’t into all that TPE stuff, so I guess I’m confused.”

Lucas nodded. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. While I’m glad I joined Kiss of Leather, I’ve realized that I’m at the point in my life where chasing after a different sub every night is not my thing anymore.” He let out a sigh. “I just turned forty-five. In my younger days, TPE was what I would pursue when seeking out a partner. But the demands of my career made it too difficult to do right by my subs.” Lucas trailed his fingers along Tai’s shoulder. “Over the years, I made do with scenes and visiting clubs. Kept it simple. But not only am I done with chasing young subs around, I’m ready to build a life with someone, someone who I can see myself growing old with. And now that my company has reached the point where I can afford a management team? I’d like to explore a power exchange relationship again.”

Tai regarded him intently, his brow knitted as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “Damn. Can’t say I was expecting that. But…” Tai’s frown deepened, his eyes glimmering. “You know that would never work between us, right?”

Lucas swallowed around the lump in his throat. Even if Tai could be a drama queen and indulge in knee-jerk reactions, he did have a certain emotional maturity to him that Lucas found pleasing. Tai was a dichotomy that added up to an exciting, enjoyable and sexy package, and Lucas hated the idea that they would likely go off and find other partners. He only hoped it would be later instead.

Switching Places is out now and you can get your copy from Amazon US, Amazon UK, and Barnes & Noble.

~~~~~

Author Morticia Knight spends most of her nights writing about men loving men forever after. Even though she’s been crafting her naughty tales for more years than she’d like to share – her adventures as a published author began in 2011. Since then, she’s been fortunate enough to have several books on bestseller lists, along with two titles receiving recognition from the Rainbow Book Awards. Morticia currently resides on the beautiful northern Oregon coast.

Find and follow her on Facebook and Amazon.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Spanking the Senator by Elizabeth SaFleur

11 Feb

Think Femme Domme might not be your thing? Elizabeth SaFleur promises her alpha male submissives who meet the female Dominants of their dreams are no pushovers. That’s what makes it so much fun, right?

 

About the book:

“No one is regular when it comes to sex.” ~Candor Moore

Secret Service Agent Candor Moore puts her life at risk every day to protect the men and women this country elects to high office. She expects no thanks, would prefer to remain invisible. So when she saves the life of Senator Thomas Kincaid she doesn’t know how to handle his sudden romantic interest in her. Love is messy. Love is unpredictable. Love cannot be controlled. But sex where she can exercise her full Femme Domme nature? Oh, yes.

 

Thomas can’t stop thinking about the beautiful guardian angel who put her body between him and a bullet—the first woman to spark his interest since his wife died. Candor proves to be a hard sell when he asks her out, and even harder to pin down around commitment. Thomas had never considered himself a sexually submissive man, but for his Mistress Angel’s love, he’ll go all in—which proves to be the key to earning her heart.

~~~~~

“Thomas.” Candor tapped her fingernails against her glass and scrutinized the man who sat before her full of hope, good looking, and, quite frankly, ignorant as to what he was getting himself into with her. Why did she find his innocence attractive? Perhaps she had delayed too long in immersing him in her brand of relationship, or non-relationship.

“Yes?” he asked.

“You like the idea of me dominating you.”

He nearly spat out his wine. She handed him his napkin.

“Would you like to find out how much?” she asked.

“Will you come to Montana?” He coughed a little into his napkin.

Negotiator, indeed.

She rested her bare foot on his. He didn’t pull it back as he had at the restaurant.

“I will do more with you. Tonight,” she declared. Oh, that look on his face was priceless.

“Are you getting hard for me, Thomas?” she asked.

His neck flushed but his eyes stayed trained on hers. “Yes.”

She pushed out her chair and held out her hand. “Come with me.” The time for talk and teasing was over.

He looked up at her as if to ask, already? Yes, already, she thought.

She wasn’t going to go away with a man who didn’t understand she had one kind of relationship on her mind, and her preferences would never change. She’d tried a few vanilla dates here and there, even dated a man for six months whose idea of deviant sex was doing it upright in the shower. She’d been bored witless. Thomas, however, fascinated her.

Thomas pushed back his chair and rose. “Can I bring my wine?” He threw her a smile, trying to lighten the mood, which was not his job. She wouldn’t allow him to direct the atmosphere.

As they took the steps, her mind cleared of the day’s events. She tuned into Thomas. She noted his breathing, the way he clutched his wine glass, how his eyes stayed trained forward.

“Don’t be nervous,” she said as soon as they reached the top of the stairs. “You can always say no.”

“Not likely,” he said under his breath.

She turned for his bedroom where she’d napped in a very comfortable king-sized bed draped in soft green, white, and taupe bedding. The tall bedposts begged to be put to good use, and despite being surrounded with classic cherry furniture with brass handles, the room had potential for what she planned. When she woke earlier, she was sure she’d been transported to Colonial Williamsburg. Time to add her flavor to the décor.

He set his wine down on his nightstand. “Candor, it’s been a while.”

“I understand.”

“It’s just if this is an audition . . .”

She smiled, but he looked grim. “No, Thomas.” She ran her palms down both his arms and captured his hands. “Remember, I won’t harm you,” she promised. “If you’d rather—”

“No,” he said quickly. “I want to.”

“Then take off your shirt. From there, I’ll direct your access to my body.”

His eyes darkened with lust. “Access,” he said.

“Yes, consider it like giving you permission.”

He swallowed so hard she saw his Adam’s apple move up and down. If this didn’t work, then there was no reason to torture each other with a trip across the country.

“You game?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’m game.” The words came out in a hoarse whisper, but his fingers moved to his buttons.

She stepped backward to give him room. Plus, she wanted to watch the reveal of his naked body. It wasn’t just men who got off on visual delights. Two buttons undone, and she could tell this man had hidden treasures.

His fingers stilled, and she glanced up at his face.

“Why, Thomas Kincaid, are you shy?”

“No. I just like taking my time.”

“As do I.”

“And I like watching you watch me. It’s like nothing bad can happen when you’re in the room.” The man smirked. “The first time I saw you, I thought a guardian angel stood over me. Silly, huh?”

“Not at all. Consider me your Mistress Angel.” She liked that—the sound of the name and its meaning. She would never let anyone hurt this man. She recognized a feeling of protectiveness toward Thomas, something she hadn’t felt in a while, certainly not about someone she wasn’t paid to protect. Other than Franco, of course.

More buttons released the constriction of fabric across his chest. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, shrugged out of the garment, and hung it over a chair back. His hands grabbed his under shirt and pulled it off over his head—a manly move she’d always adored—to reveal a delightful dusting of hair across his muscled chest, hair that was also peppered with gray and made him look even more masculine. This man pushed more than paper all day.

“Then I noticed your hair,” he said.

She walked to him and put a fingertip over his lips. Politicians made talking an art form, and silence would be one of his greatest challenges. Perhaps she’d gag him later—see if he could take not speaking.

She pushed him so the back of his knees hit the bed and he tumbled backward. He caught himself with his hands but didn’t try to get back up. His chest lay bared with his abs starkly delineated in muscle and a V of hair that trailed beneath his belt buckle.

She ran a fingertip over his stomach ridges. “You’ve been quite physical in your life.”

“Hay bales. Lifted thousands of them in my lifetime. No one who owns a horse ranch gets away without doing work.”

“Okay, then. I’m considering going to Montana with you.”

“Considering—”

His words choked in his throat as soon as she reached his belt buckle.

After ridding him of his belt and dumping it unceremoniously on the floor, she cupped his trapped erection.

“Yes,” she said. “I like to consider all my options.”

After unbuttoning his trousers, she freed a cock she knew would be as magnificent as the man who leaned back on his elbows receiving her handling. She’d felt him before but now was treated to the full visual.

“They do grow you country boys big, don’t they?” she said, marveling at the flesh in her hands.

“Now you’re just flattering me.” His eyes held an astounding confidence. Clearly, her dominance fueled his courage—something she’d rarely seen in a man but which was oh-so-welcomed.

She let go of him and stood upright. Taking three steps back, she slowly lowered herself into a corner wingback chair.

“Thomas, take off the rest of your clothes. Show me what else you’ve got.”

He smiled and rolled his eyes, but God love the man, he rose and did what she asked. The loss of his shirt, trousers, socks and then those tight black briefs confirmed all the high hopes she had for this man.

Some men were just proportioned correctly with well-developed legs, torso, and arms as if they were designed to go with one another. Someone high above definitely designed Thomas Kincaid well—very well. He should have an ego the size of Montana. Instead, he stood before her, nude and comfortable, as if masculinity was in his genes, a man who had embraced the physicality of life from an early age.

Now she’d see how much he got off on being truly, thoroughly dominated.

BUY LINKS for Spanking the Senator

Amazon US    Amazon UK    Amazon CA    Amazon AU      Barnes & Noble     Kobo

 

~~~~~

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary romance that dares to “go there.” Expect alpha males (and females), seductive encounters, and love. Learn more about her steamy and sexy stories by following her on Amazon and Bookbub.

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Tapped by Liz Crowe

28 Jan

Tip up your mugs, this Sunday we have a hot excerpt from Liz Crowe’s Tapped, from her Brewing Passion series.

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About the book:

One hot entrepreneur plus a driven saleswoman and sultry brewer: simmered in the craft beer world for a unique, sexy reading experience!

When wealthy brewery owner Austin Fitzgerald meets sexy saleswoman Evelyn Benedict, angry sparks fly. They seem destined to clash, until a hot hookup in a cold beer cooler changes everything.

For Austin, it’s a life-altering moment that sets him on a path away from his birthright, while Evelyn must face her fears about committing to a man considered the playboy of the micro-brewing world.

The power of their preconceived notions nearly tears them apart—until they meet up with brewmaster Ross, who opens their eyes to a deeper, more erotic connection.

But three strong personalities don’t always make for the best emotional mix and when a simple misunderstanding causes chaos, it’s up to Ross to somehow repair the tattered shreds of their relationship.

Excerpt:

Austin sat, sipping coffee and watching the sun rise. He’d slipped out from under the soft sheets and Evelyn’s warm embrace, smiling as she mumbled and flopped over onto her other side. After a freezing five-mile run along trail around the lake, he’d come back, gotten coffee from the smiling B & B owner and sat, watching Evelyn sleep for a few minutes. After deciding to let her rest, he took his coffee to the adjoining room with a giant floor-to-ceiling window.

To say that life as Evelyn Benedict’s boyfriend was tumultuous constituted an understatement in the extreme. Her mood swings were wide and at times breathtaking. She lived and worked with a passion matched only by her enthusiasm for sex.

And she expected a lot of the people around her, so when someone disappointed her at work, or in his case, at home, there was hell to pay. But he loved it. Absolutely fucking reveled in it, using his own much calmer nature to cool her, to temper some of her more egregious outbursts of anger and frustration.

Of course, ‘home’ was a misnomer. She refused to move in with him, keeping that shitty apartment like a badge of honor, staying over at his condo on the weekends but insisting on sleeping in her own bed during the week.

So he stayed with her, mostly. And since he’d never been a guy who gave much thought to his surroundings as long as his basic needs were met, he didn’t care. Because she met every single one of his needs—emotional and mental with her constant questions and challenges about brewing, his company, and how to make it better. And her physicality—her near constant need for skin-to-skin contact—matched his in a perfect and sometimes scary way.

As for the sex, he’d never met a woman more inclined to experiment. One many levels, she reminded him of Ross—and not just the way she threw herself into sex, enjoying every moment, every touch, every caress as if it might be her last. She was also somewhat alarmingly like him in other ways—guarding herself, second-guessing anything that might hint at actual emotion, willing to let others commit before she would. Ready to retract into her hard, tough-girl shell, emotionless shell at the slightest provocation.

Maddening. But he was so deeply in love with her, he felt prepared to meet it, head on.

Most days.

“Austin?” Her voice behind him made him stand and stretch, his cock already tingling in anticipation. “Where did you go? Jesus, what time is it? Get your ass back here.”

He grinned. “Think you can just boss me like that, woman?” He leaned on the door frame, drinking her in with his eyes. “Because you can’t.”

“I’m not bossing, dear. Just suggesting.” She let the sheet fall aside, revealing her completely naked body. His smile widened when she bent one knee and reached down to touch herself. “You know, only suggesting that you get your sweet self over here and help a girl out.”

He grinned, yanked off his shirt and shorts, and dove into the warm nest of sheets and Evelyn. The frustration at her most recent rejection was already forgotten in the amazing smell of her skin and the lovely sound of her moans as he did what she suggested, for an hour or two.

Later, when they lay tangled in damp sheets, catching their breath, their fingers clasped together between them, Evelyn sighed. “So, tell me something,” she said. Austin forced himself up to full consciousness as best he could.

“Hmm,” he said, turning to face her, taking in the flushed, well-fucked look on her face with more than a little self-satisfaction.

“How is it…I mean, with two, um, guys and a girl?”

Austin hesitated, then put her knuckles to his lips, buying himself some time.

She pulled her fingers free of his, sat up and wrapped the sheet around herself. One thing about his Evelyn, he mused, watching her. He would never accuse her of being indirect. About anything.

“Don’t baby me, Austin. I mean it. I want to know.”

“I have no doubt that you want to know, my love.” He propped himself on one elbow and ordered his thoughts.

“Don’t think about it, damn you. Just…tell me.” She swept her hair up off her neck, making his mouth water at the sight of her flushed skin. Making him want to grab her, hold her down, lick the sweat droplets and lose himself in her all over again. “Yo, earth to lover boy,” she demanded, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Spill it. What’s it like? I mean do you… Would you… Oh hell, never mind.” She turned and started to climb out of bed before he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Hang on a second. I don’t mind telling you. I guess I didn’t expect you to want to know. Most…women…aren’t that into it.”

She let him pull her back into the warm bed and curled into him so he was pressed up against her back, his lips on her bare, delicious shoulder. “Stop it,” she whispered. “Tell me what it’s like to have sex with a woman with another guy in on the act.”

He sighed and held onto her. “It’s…pretty amazing,” he admitted. “I mean, I can’t speak for the women I’ve… We’ve…well, you know what I mean.”

With a grunt of frustration, Evelyn turned and faced him, taking his face between her hands. “Are you bisexual, Austin? Because if you are, I want you to know I’m okay with it.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No, I’m not. Unless being comfortable watching my friend have sex with a woman right in front of me, or fucking her ass while he does the same to her pussy makes me bi, of course. Because I really do enjoy doing that.”

Admitting this felt like a giant weight lifting off his chest—the last barrier to complete honesty with her was gone. Something about this made his dick hard. Or maybe it was the way one of her legs was draped over his hip, and the way her beautiful, lush breasts were barely covered by the soft white sheet right in front of him. Or perhaps it was the rich, raw, smell of her, of them, and of their recent activity in this small bedroom.

He shifted, pulling her closer, but she held back, not taking her gaze from his face. “You really enjoy it, eh?”

“Yes, Evelyn, I do. Feel this? That’s how much I enjoy it. And I’d swear after the last hour or two it would take me a day to recover.” He took her hand and put it on the erection tenting the sheet over his hips. Her slow, sexy smile made him shiver. “God help me, woman, I love you so much…” He kissed her hard, owning her, frustration with her melting away into a puddle of lust.

She broke the kiss, but kept up her hand work. “Tell me more, Austin,” she whispered, leaning close to nip his earlobe. “I want to hear about it—how you do it. How you and Ross pleasure a woman together.”

Austin froze for a split second, pondering the implication of this specific request. But the sheet covering her breasts drew away, distracting him. He reached out and held the pleasant heaviness of one in his palm. “You want to know how we do it, huh?” He grazed her nipple with his thumb, making her shudder and his dick even harder. She nodded, her blue eyes sparkling and bright, the now-familiar turned-on Evelyn sensations enveloping him.

“Like this,” he whispered, pulling away and flipping her over so fast she squealed.

~~~~~

Get your copy now on Amazon US, B&N:  and iTunes.

Author, mom of three math-minded adults, Realtor, brewery marketing consultant and sports fan, Liz Crowe is a Kentucky native and graduate of the University of Louisville living in Ann Arbor. She has decades of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a three-continent, ex-pat trailing spouse. Her unique, realistic style has been dubbed “Romance for Real Life,” and has gained thousands of fans interested in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”).

Find her on Website, Facebook Fan Page and Sign Up for Liz Newz.

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Now or Never by Isabelle Drake

31 Dec

Happy New Year! We’re kicking off 2018 with a bit from Now or Never, Book 1 in Isabelle Drake’s sexy Washington DC series, Invitations.

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Book Blurb:

Dressed as a sex slave and hiding behind a mask, Emily arrives at a costume party ready to make a former co-worker pay for not noticing her lush curves.

Emily grabs the opportunity to make a former co-worker she fantasised about before leaving for the US Peace Corps pay for not noticing her lush curves. Her goal—blow his mind with her sex slave seduction and leave him aching for more.

Wearing a borrowed costume and mask, Daniel accepts the offer of a woman eager to show him what she can do with the sheer scarves she’s untying from her waist. His goal—make sure the woman undressing for him knows how incredible she is and understands that he isn’t a one-night-only kind of man.

Excerpt:

“I’m not here to waste time,” she whispered.

“What are you here to do?”

“You’re the Master, you tell me.”

Her breasts, her neck, her sweet shoulders—where would he put his mouth first?

While he was musing over that dilemma, a lavender scarf appeared in her hands.

She wrapped it around his forearm, the cool silk caressing the sensitive area on the underside of his wrist. “Give you any ideas?”

Speechless, he nodded, watching as she slipped it away, knotted it around her wrist then handed him an end.

“I have more in my bag.” She swung her small bag playfully, then flattened her palm to her stomach. “And another one holding up my skirt.”

With his free hand, Daniel grabbed the sash around her waist, pulling her to him so she could feel the solid length of his fully erect dick. “You sure we both want the same thing?”

She smiled, curling her fingers over the slippery fabric of his pants and grasping his shaft. “You’re not wasting any time either, are you?”

“Actually,” he said, “I was thinking we were both wasting time standing here playing word games. I have a room at a B and B”—he nodded towards the edge of Gino’s lot—“that way, through the trees.”

Daniel turned, wondering if anyone would see him pulling the harem girl away then question Randall about the catch, but no one was paying any attention to them.

The only people in sight were a giant cactus making a big deal out of trying to hug a woman dressed as an oasis.

Museum people.

Really.

He stepped farther into the wooded area, gently tugging the girl away from the crowd, into the darkness swelling among the trees. As they moved from the party, he could hear the light jingling of the bells and the gentle pant of her breath as she hurried to keep up with him.

Sure, Daniel had seen porn where people were tied up but he’d never had any experience with it himself. It had always struck him as one of those scenarios that was fun to watch  but wouldn’t really appeal to him in real life. With the silk-wrapped girl trailing behind him, he was beginning to think he’d been very wrong about himself.

He glanced back, and she looked up with a smile that faltered when she stumbled on a cluster of sticks.

He reached for her before she completely lost her footing, only to have her tumble into his arms. Without the use of her left arm, she’d nearly fallen. Working to right herself, she twisted in his arms. His fingers skimmed across the swells of her breasts, the smoothness of her stomach, then the lush curves of her hips.

By the time she’d finally stopped struggling to get her footing, she was pressed against him, breathing hard. He admired the sharp rise and fall of her rib cage. Her jacket had slipped to her elbows and the flimsy fabric of her top had fallen away, revealing one lush, round tit shoved up by the corset.

Instead of shrinking away, or grabbing the front of her shirt to conceal herself, she lifted her free hand to cup her heavy mound and offer it to him, whispering, “Master?”

The need to possess her was familiar, a predictable response to a sexy woman offering herself to him, but it was the single-minded desire to dominate her that caught him off guard and took his breath away. It was as though she already belonged to him. Not in reality, but in his dreams.

“For you,” she said, filling his silence and pushing the gauze away to reveal the other gorgeous breast. “Do whatever you want.”

The shouts and laughter of Gino’s party carried in the fall wind, reminding Daniel that he’d only just met this girl.

Then why did he feel so connected to her, as though he knew her?

She tugged the sash from his grip, shimmying to let her jacket fall to the ground, then wrapped the end around her other wrist. Her bare skin shone in the night, her nipples tightening to stiff points. The temptation to taste them was irresistible.

He covered one nipple with his mouth as he reached around to grasp her hips and pull her to him. She responded instantly, arching back and shoving more of herself into his mouth with a satisfied sigh.

His cock tensed, then throbbed, the tip pulsing with a need that intensified each time she moaned, soft and sexy. The girl was so hot, so ready. He grabbed her ass and squeezed and she purred against him, instantly spreading her legs as though she’d been waiting for his touch.

But her giving in to him wasn’t enough. He needed her to touch him, taste him, to want something from him as well.

With three sharp tugs, he freed her hands and tossed the scrap of fabric to the ground.

*****

Get Now or Never, first in the Invitations series, on Kindle, Google, Barnes & Noble, or direct from Totally Bound for only .99.

*****

Isabelle Drake got her start writing confession stories for pulp magazines like True Confessions and True Love. Since publishing those first few stories she has written in multiple genres, earned and MFA in Creative Writing and became an English & Writing Professor. When away from her keyboard, she watches films, especially classic noir, horror and romance, and reads (of course). An avid traveler, she’ll go just about anywhere–at least once–to meet people and get ideas.

Find Isabelle as Isabelle Drake on Facebook, Youtube and Goodreads & @isabelledrake on Instagram, Twitter and Tumblr & isadrake on Snapchat.

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